Della

The scenic coastal city of "Royal Bay" invites a potentially lucrative deal from land developers. Unfortunately, bachelor attorney Paul Burke (as Bernard "Barney" Stafford) and his city councilman father Charles Bickford (as Hugh Stafford) are unable to proceed. Much of the city is owned by attractively graying Joan Crawford (as Della), who refuses to sell the land in question. The wealthy and reclusive Ms. Crawford has been secluded in her mansion for 15 years, due to an unfortunate incident we will learn about nearer the story's end. Receiving an invitation to visit Crawford, Mr. Burke meets her beautiful daughter Diane Baker (as Jenny Chappell) and the two are mutually attracted. Working out a land development deal grows secondary as Burke becomes more concerned with why Ms. Baker feels imprisoned, on the sprawling estate, by her mysterious mother...

This project began as a "Peyton Place" swipe entitled "Royal Bay" – but it was not picked up by the TV networks. This is not a surprise. The expense of producing a nighttime 1964 serial, in color, with possible appearances by Joan Crawford must have had executives scratching their heads. If she wasn't contacted to regularly appear, the series provides little else of interest. It would have starred Burke and Mr. Bickford, a Hollywood veteran who does get a notable scene with Crawford. Independent of Crawford, they are uninteresting. Other regulars Richard Carlson (as David Stafford) and Robert Sampson (as Joel Stafford) look promising and obviously had story lines, but nothing is revealed about them. In the end, this does not work as a proposed TV series. However, it does work as a Joan Crawford showcase; she would have excelled as a nighttime soap opera matriarch.

***** Royal Bay/ Della (8/8/64) Robert Gist ~ Joan Crawford, Paul Burke, Diane Baker, Charles Bickford

I wish it was a little longer, something is missing. Anyway, the beautiful Diane Baker is excellent embodying a mentally unbalanced young woman. Joan Crawford, a top expert on the characters of very strong women, here she manages to make you shiver only with the force of her steel eyes. Paul Burke and Charles Bickford, as son and father, are good. Worth seeing!

This was produced after Crawford's camp Whatever Happened to Baby Jane comeback. 1965? It appears it was on the shelf for at least a year and a half.

As a Crawford vehicle, this is pretty dull. For the most part, Joan Crawford films after 1950 were pure camp. This one is not so unintentionally funny unless you count all these scenes with Vaseline on the lens, her overly dramatic poses or her 1963 Oscars hair. I kept waiting for a Pepsi bottle to appear.

The bright spot is Diane Baker. This was made during her studio contract years where she was properly groomed and given parts commensurate with her looks and talent. Well, except this part. She would go on to one more good film, Mirage, before being kicked to the TV movie curb.

This is essentially a soap opera in so many ways, and the money spent (or lack of it) on location settings or interiors appears to be minimal. Crawford plays Della, a grand, nervous, demanding, slightly off-kilter grande dame who hides in isolation with her strange daughter high above the city's noise and hustle. A hot-shot lawyer operating for an outside corporation wants to purchase a huge chunk of Crawford's property--but she's not budging! Nobody pushes Joan around!

What plot follows is not half as mesmerizing as the period automobiles in glittering pastels or the various fashion statements that Crawford parades as if she had been born to them (one may notice, however, that almost all of her close-ups shift to a very soft focus--no need to adjust your television). Della has lived in this lavishly furnished mansion for decades, but if one looks closely at the garish flower arrangements, the truly tatty color combinations in the carpets and curtains and the weird accent colors chosen by some set decorator in a very big hurry with a very small choice, the corners cut are clear. The same goes for the tacky statues plopped down around the pool, particularly the one dubbed "The Sun God," looking like something from an old Tarzan movie that keeps ending up with flowers stuffed in its mouth for no apparent reason.

But reason isn't what this frenetic melodrama is all about--as you can tell from this review, half the fun of it is enjoying the trappings of a late period Tinseltown Product, a sprinkling of several fine character actors--Charles Bickford and Richard Carlson (looking utterly exhausted!) and the always commanding Joan , rising above the situation just as she did in Mildred Pierce, Flamingo Road or the almost perfect Humoresque . By this time, however, the studios were largely finished, had sold of most of their lavish inventory, and only cared about what money might be made from television. This is primarily a curiosity, and one must bring a good deal of suspended disbelief to the party to enjoy it.

If you're expecting a movie from the late period of Joan Crawford's career, you will soon realize "Della" is made for TV. In fact, it was a pilot for what seems to have been intended as a series about a lawyer and his clients, a sort of "Burke's Law" with a legal theme. In fact, by superficial coincidence, the star is James Burke.

Partly artistic (some of the blocking is obviously designed with geometric patterns in mind), partly hack (high lit, artificial environments, antiseptic props) part fashion show (every time we see Crawford she's wearing another exquisitely tailored ensemble), part generically boring (dull narration over dull opening montage, albeit with a fine, lush underscoring by Fred Steiner of "Perry Mason" theme-tune fame; dull men saying dull things in dull environments – featureless boardroom, picnic spot in nondescript city park with bland participants in spotless boring clothes, except for craggy, wild-haired, slightly rumpled Charles Bickford), part intriguing (references to pagan gods, stars and planets woven into a strong mother-daughter conflict with deep, mysterious roots). It's kind of like a rough sketch for a Eugene O'Neill play that never went beyond an outline and instead became a vehicle for Joan Crawford, who makes her usual post-"Baby Jane" style of star entrance, this time descending a staircase. Regal, defiant, tough; upswept silver-streaked hair, shoulders thrown back, menacing eyebrows. Trim and graceful in long shots, soft-focus in close-ups, she plays the title character, a wealthy recluse who, with her daughter (the attractive but undistinguished Diane Baker), has confined herself to her Downton Abbey-like property for several years except for occasional nighttime drives. What is she hiding? Vampirism? (If only.) Adjacent to her palatial domicile is a private garden festooned with statues of pagan gods that look like backyard kitsch from Walmart. The "moon goddess" wobbles when Baker leans against it; the sun god" ("mother and I made it out of clay when I was little") looks like a replica of a gape-mouthed Aztec temple carving and she feeds it flowers for reasons that are never explained. Baker spends a great deal of time gazing at the heavens in her private mini-planetarium which resembles a "Star Trek" set piece.

Into this weird world steps James Burke (a run-of-the-mill actor like Richard Basehart or Dana Andrews: not bad to look at, histrionically competent, but lacking electricity or charisma—in other words, the perfect complement to Diane Baker). Of course Crawford, with the help of the script and the direction, blows them off the screen, and not subtly either. But back to Burke. He plays a lawyer whose father, Bickford, is on the city council and both would like to convince Crawford to sell her property so that a large aerospace company can relocate its headquarters there and do wonders for the local economy. She agrees by phone to meet Burke to discuss the matter – at her place at 2am. Hmmm. While trying to persuade her to sell, he meets and becomes attracted to Baker (also awake and dressed to the nines in the middle of the night) and begins to wonder what is behind this reclusive nocturnal lifestyle. Pop (Bickford) happens to know the answer but he ain't talking'. Otherwise the movie would end at the 30-minute point.

In its time "Della" was probably dismissed as a hopeless clunker, the kind of thing that would have gone straight to video decades later. But through the prism of half a century, certain aspects of it become fascinating if you look at it clinically the way a car mechanic might look under the hood of an Edsel. But if you're expecting a well-conceived and emotionally involving dramatic experience, skip it.